Given some of the noblemen in Austria, he might have gone far, Nikola replied with wry humor.

Even your horses are, for lack of a better word, runts of the litter. Thor has one eye and is missing an ear. The horse you rode has scars all up and down her chest and front legs. I read Black Beauty as a child, you know. I’m well aware that in your time appearance was everything, and there you were riding around on horses that any other man of consequence would have sent to the knacker.

It was merely a matter of convenience, nothing more, he objected. I couldn’t be bothered to replace something so trivial as a horse or a servant. I had important, weighty matters on my mind. That is all.

Uh-huh. I touched his hand. You’ve got an emptiness inside you, but it’s not evil. And if you’d just let go of my bag, I could get us a room and then show you just how much I appreciate the fact that you’re not going to kill me in my sleep and chop me up into little bits.

I will carry your bag.

I sighed, and marched over to the registration desk (lavender with green tree frogs painted on the top). There was a brief tussle when Nikola wished to do the registering for a room.

You may think I’m old-fashioned as often as you like—although I should point out that I was born in 1637, so technically, I am old-fashioned—but I have yet to be accused of not knowing what’s proper and what’s not, and allowing a woman to register a hotel room for me, as well as pay for it, is not proper. Cease offering that woman the small item you insist she needs. My money is perfectly good.

It’s called a credit card, and your money is made of gold, three-hundred-year-old gold. Just one of those coins you tried to give her could rent a room here for a year. Nikola, please put your money away. I will allow you to pay me for the room if you like, but let me put it on my credit card—otherwise we’ll stand out, and I don’t think we need any more attention than you are already getting being dressed as you are.

He looked down at himself, then out the window to where people were strolling down the street, enjoying the sunny afternoon. Some men were in jeans or other types of pants, but most wore knee-length shorts and T-shirts.

“I see that the fashion for breeches remains, but do not men wear stockings in your time?” he asked a few minutes later as we walked up two flights of stairs to our room. “Or waistcoats?”

“The guys in shorts weren’t wearing breeches. They’re actually walking shorts, and their shirts were T-shirts. So no, no stockings and fancy breeches, or heavily embroidered waistcoats, or even the fancy coat you’re wearing over all of it. They do wear ties, although they’re not as big as your neckcloth. We’ll have to go shopping after I’ve had a bath in a real bathtub.”

It was fascinating to watch Nikola be introduced to new things. I explained briefly about the telephone, radio, and TV that sat in the room, then stood back and watched him approach them in what he considered a scientific method. He asked questions about each item—almost all of which I couldn’t answer—then proceeded to make little sketches of them in his notebook, as well as copious notes.

“Let me show you how to use the toilet,” I said, going into the small attached bathroom.

“I don’t have to use the toilet,” he protested, following me into the room.

“No, but you might at some point.”

He shook his head. “That will not happen.”

“Of course it will. Are you embarrassed because my toilets are nicer than your toilets?”

“Not in the least. I’m simply saying that I do not need to use one.”

“What, you mean never?” I gawked at him. “Vampires don’t pee?”

“We have no need to do so, no.”

My level of gawking increased. “But…but how does your body get rid of waste?”

He shrugged. “It no longer creates waste. Thus the functions associated with that are dormant.”

“Well, that’s really handy. I wish I could do the same thing. Boy, the savings on toilet paper alone must be staggering. All right, so no toilet. Now, this is the shower. You do take showers, right? I mean, you were taking a bath last night when I walked in on you.”

“Yes, we bathe,” he said with a look that told me he was this close to rolling his eyes. “We also cleanse our teeth, comb our hair, and shave our whiskers.”

I showed him how to turn on the shower, and then, feeling somewhat itchy, said, “I feel like I’ve got three hundred years of dirt on me, so I’m going to take a shower. Why don’t you watch TV for a bit while I’m doing so, and when I’m done, I’ll feed you, and most likely seduce you like you’ve never been seduced before.”

He looked interested at that suggestion, and went into the other room while I disrobed and got into the shower. I was just sighing with happiness as I used a tiny sample bottle of shampoo when Nikola asked, What is it you’re doing that gives you so much pleasure?

Just enjoying the amenities of modern life. Did you turn the TV on?

Yes. It is interesting, like a lantern show, but with much more detail. I approve of it. You will explain how it works to me later.

Um. Yeah. We’ll consult Wikipedia. I took up the body shampoo and sea sponge, soaping myself up in a businesslike manner that suddenly ceased when I felt Nikola’s stunned interest. Is anything the matter?

No. The word came out strangled. Continue cleansing your body.

I slid my hands, soapy and wet, down my breasts. If you insist.

My hands went even lower, swirling little soapy circles on my stomach before sliding onward to more personal parts.

He moaned into my head. Oh, yes, right there, sweetling. Touch yourself there again.

I did, thrilled not by the touch of my own fingers, but by the incredible arousal that Nikola felt at my doing so.

I shifted, swirling long, soapy curlicues down the fronts of my legs, then up the backs to my behind.

He moaned again.

Do your belly once more, he demanded, panting a little into my mind.

I looked critically at the shower, decided that although it wasn’t any too large, I wasn’t going to kick up a fuss at being too cramped.

I’d rather, I said, soaping my breasts again, that you be the one to wash my belly. And whatever else might strike your fancy.

The words had barely left my mind before he was there, naked, the door to the shower flung open, allowing cooler air to swirl around me for a second or two. “I am your servant, madame.”

I giggled as he took the sponge from me, about to turn around to face him, but unable to do so when he pulled me backward against his body, his hands busily possessing themselves of my breasts and stomach and pubic areas. “A less servile man I have never met, Nikola. Oh, merciful heavens, do that again!”

His fingers dipped and swirled and teased sensitive flesh, sending me immediately soaring. “If you bend forward, I will be able to make love to you,” he murmured in my ear as I rocked my pelvis against his magic fingers.

“There isn’t enough room for me to bend forward,” I pointed out, my body tightening in anticipation. “How about if I turn around, and you hoist me up and we do it that way?”

“You are too slippery for me to hold safely,” he said, the hardness of his penis rubbing along my behind. “Put your hands on the floor. There is enough room for you to double over in that manner.”

“I’m likely to drown in that position. Or at least get water up my nose, which isn’t at all pleasant. How about if we turn sideways, I wrap one leg around you, while supporting myself on the other?”

He bit my shoulder, just a little love bite, but the hunger swept over him in an overpowering, consuming wave of need and want. You are not tall enough that I would be able to accommodate you.

I’m perfectly normal in height, thank you.

Wrap one of your legs around me, and brace the other against the wall. That will allow me to support you without letting you slip.

You mean like this? Ow! Ow ow ow! Leg cramp! Wait a sec, let’s try this: You squish me against the wall and I can brace both legs against the opposite wall, with you in between.

That sounds most awkward. If we turn so that my back is to the water, and you stand on your hands, you can wrap your legs around my waist, and—

“Oh, screw this,” I said, driven half-mad with need just by his emotions alone. I spun the shower knob to turn off the water, threw open the shower door, and pulled Nikola out to the bedroom.

We didn’t make it to the bed.

Floor! I demanded.

This is much easier, he agreed when I tumbled to the soft carpet, my hands everywhere as I tried to touch and taste all of him at once. I nipped his hip, I bit his thigh, I nibbled on his ribs all the while that he was nipping, biting, and nibbling on me. At one point, I was trying to bite his ear just as he was about to do the same, and I cracked my head on his, biting a bit harder than I intended.

He jerked back, and to my horror, I saw a drop of blood on the curve of his ear. “Oh, Nikola! I’m so sorry. You moved just as I was going to nibble—”

“Do it again!” he commanded, burying his face in my neck.

I will, but not so hard this time, I answered as I kissed his ear, intending to brush away the drop of blood. Some deep-seated need had me licking it off, though, part of my mind recoiling at the thought that I might pick up some horrible disease from him, the other part savoring the sweetly spicy taste of his blood.

By the time I was in a frenzy of lust, he stretched over me, his eyes blazing a dark topaz blue. I will not ask if you are ready for me, because I can feel that you—

“Too much talking! Not enough action!” I grabbed his butt and wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him with mind and body to send me flying into the wonderful Land of Orgasm.

You are the most irreverent, brazen, delectably delicious woman I have ever known, he murmured into my mind, groaning out loud when he slid into my body. I swear my eyes just about crossed at the sensation, but it wasn’t until I felt his breath on my neck, followed by the graze of his teeth, that I gave myself up to the pleasure that only he could bring me. The sharp, hot pain of his bite was followed instantly by the soul-deep satisfaction that he felt as our bodies were joined together, my life flowing to him even as he allowed himself his own moment of pure rapture.